These Days
by Svarthane
Summary: Edward is a new student at Forks High School. He meets Bella, but she's not all that she seems to be. As friendship and feelings start to flourish, a stress comes between them; and there's something vital she's not telling him.  All Human
1. Preface

On more than one occasion he would spot her drawing a some kind of bird suspended in flight on the corners of papers**,** or on the sides of her textbooks, old newspapers, the backs of flyers no one bothered to look at, the surfaces of tables she was sitting at if there wasn't any paper to be found; any scrap of paper or bare surface she could find would do. Sometimes it was only one bird, sometimes it was just abstract doodles that had nothing to do with anything, except for what was going on in her own head.

It had taken him two months before he thought it polite enough to ask why she did such a thing. "Because I envy them," she would say. "They can come and go as they please. See whatever they want for however long they want; do whatever they like. A life like that sounds great, don't you think?"

No, not particularly. Not to him. What was the point of leisure if it was only a short lived happiness? Besides, he had never been very fond of flying, nor given it any sort of thought other than the planes that were man-made. He didn't even enjoy the flight that had brought him here. Although he did enjoy that in the process it had brought him to her. Over time he did realize, that what he could hope for the most was the freedom, the free will to do, say, be whatever _he _decided, without the pressure of high expectations looming over his shoulders.

He would always chuckle at the fantasies she'd always tell him with excited enthusiasm. About running off one day, to do all the things she'd dreamed of since she was a child, or just high-tailing it to the nearest state she'd never been to, just because. "Well you can do those things now, can't you? You're still young. No need to rush." To him, it seemed like all she ever did was spend time trying to do things as fast as possible. If it were within his power against her stubbornness, he would try to get her to slow down, and actually enjoy the things she did, instead of breezing through them. And as always, with every conversation they that would end up with him advising her to pace herself, she'd shake her head at him and sigh heavily.

"I'd rather rush."

-  
><em>AN: A short introduction, but the first chapter is coming right away! _


	2. Chapter 1

This girl was odd. However not in a physical sense; She wasn't deformed, and didn't have any kind of mental imparity—that he could notice, but the presence in which she kept herself, specifically, was odd. The way she wore her clothes that didn't match, but not in an attempt to make a fashion statement; it was as if she threw the nearest thing she had, on. And the way she seemed distracted, dazed; as if her attention was lost on some incredible destination to bigger and better things, than what was going on in the classroom half the time. Not to mention how completely exhausted she always seemed to be. She looked like she was healthy in weight, but it wouldn't kill her to gain a few pounds. The circles under her eyes weren't dark necessarily, but they were still hard not to notice.

Though he really didn't have much room to talk. After flying 1,373 miles, 2 hours and 45 minutes, plus the extra hour he and his family had waited for their bags to be claimed when they had gone missing, as well as adjusting to the time change; with only about three hours of sleep and a few sips of caffeinated soda to keep him going, he doubted he looked any better. If he were able to daydream—if that's what she was doing, 'cause frankly, she would stare for such long moments at a time, she almost looked lethargic—as easily as she could, he would. And where were her pants? Surely thin tights, trainers and a large sweater couldn't be warm enough in this early October weather.

He'd seen this girl in his literature class, his gym class and his current art class. From what he observed, she didn't talk much. When she did, it never lasted long. Just enough to get her point across, and then she'd return to the bigger and better things her mind would offer. As much as he noticed the abnormal things about her, he was surprised that his professors did not. Unless he was mistaken and they did, they never said anything about her odd behavior. Maybe it only seemed odd to him though, 'cause none of his classmates seemed to pay her much attention, either.

Throughout art class she seemed pretty normal. Then again, what _is_ normal anyway? A bit bored looking but he didn't have much interest in perspective drawing, either. He sat beside her in this class. Out of the corner of his eye he would sometimes see her sketching something completely off assignment, smudging certain parts with her fingers, or scraping her pencil as hard as it would go, breaking its tip. And sometimes, she would just sit there staring at the wall, or at her shoes. She didn't make any attempts to talk to him, and out of awkwardness, he didn't try talking to her. When class was over she left just as she'd come; silent, complacent, looking as if her thoughts were in a completely different place, and her sneakers tapping lightly against the tiled floors.

~oOo~

The next two weeks were no different. Between unpacking the entire house, memorizing his schedule, classroom locations, as well as his locker and combination, while also catching up on about half a term's worth of work, he was relieved when the final bell rang; leading him to a three day weekend. He stood under an overcast sky, on the sidewalk near the school parking lot waiting on his sister, Alice.  
>Emmett, his older brother, was staying behind to watch some of his newly made friends practice lacrosse. A tragedy, he'd said over dinner last week, that he'd come here mid-season without a chance to join until next spring. Honestly it was surprising this school had any sports at all, besides volleyball. He could find his own ride home then.<p>

But then he saw her, dressed almost accordingly for once; with denim jeans, worn in sneakers, and some kind of pale plaid shirt that stuck out from under her jacket. She'd walked past him, almost completely unrecognizable with her hood up over her ears. Her head was bobbing along to some kind of tune she was humming.

"_She's just one girl."_ He thought. How hard could it be to say hello, or ask how she was doing? She was thankfully heading the same direction he was. Not wasting another minute, he jogged over and tapped her shoulder.

"Put it in your fucking napkin…"

His face immediately blanched. His hand slipped off her shoulder and grabbed her backpack strap, stopping her in her place. She turned around with an audible "Hmm?" staring at him as if he had been born with two heads, which at the moment; he felt as if he had been.

"What did you just say?" heat was slowly coming back to his face. For a moment, she continued staring at him as if it were a completely normal occurrence to say such a thing to someone for the first time, until something he'd said clicked and she pulled her hood down; revealing a pair of headphones over her ears.

"Sorry. Lyrics." She held up her small blue iPod for proof.

"Oh, I see…" No, he didn't. He had never heard of a band called _Surfer Blood _and judging from the name, had no immediate plans to. He offered his right hand somewhat politely. "I'm Edward," he murmured. She gave a small smile and shook his hand with a light grip. "I'm Bella." She tucked her iPod and headphones into the pocket of her jacket, and wrapped a scarf around her neck in its place.

"You must be new?" she asked, while adjusting her hair. At first he thought she was joking. But when she stared at him with such a genuinely serious expression he wiped the small smirk off his face. Could she really be that unobservant?

"I just moved here two and a half weeks ago from Alaska." he tried to keep his voice as even as possible. The sudden sound of surprise caught him off guard. "Holy cow. Which part?" Bella exclaimed. Truth is, like his other siblings, he had been born in France, but had moved to Alaska later on, when he was twelve; but told her he and his family had been living near their cousins in Denali, Alaska for the past five years until now. "It's not that exciting," he went on. "The weather doesn't seem to have changed much from Denali since I've been here." Bella gave an amused smirk, shaking her head. They talked about their plans for the extended weekend. Edward still had a few things to put in the attic, and Bella didn't have much going on except for a few appointments. Alice showed up after the small talk, accidentally interrupting Bella's advice on places for Edward to check out when he got the chance. The two were introduced briefly before going their separate ways; Bella heading to the other side of the lot to her truck, while Edward and Alice went along the sidewalk to his car at the curb.

"She seemed normal enough." Alice piped, buckling herself in his passenger seat.  
>"Key word being seemed. That's the most I've heard her talk in the past three weeks." Alice smacked his arm, chastising him for supposedly being rude. Ignoring his sister's chatter about how badly she wanted to be home before she missed some kind of television show, he closed his door and drove out onto the main roads, watching Bella's taillights disappearing from his rearview mirror reflection.<p>

-  
><em>AN: well there you have it! A bit of a slow start, I know. Just in case any of you were wondering what the song from the lyrics Bella unintentionally alarmed Edward with is, it's "Floating Vibes" by Surfer Blood. Please review and tell me what you think. I'll do my best to update as soon as possible. Thanks!_


	3. Chapter Two

As extended as his weekend was, Edward found himself bored with everything he did and constantly at a loss for something to do; frustrated that he was not as relaxed as he had hoped the extra day off would make him.

He'd loaded the last six boxes into the attic as his mother had asked, while somehow simultaneously being roped into dusting the unused dining room.

He stared at the white walls of his bedroom until his eyes hurt. He already finished his homework, and started on his perspective drawing for his art class with no progress. Played—and lost—against Emmett in some kind of wrestling video game twice. Eventually he'd stooped so low into the realms of ennui that he'd cleaned the entire kitchen. Practicing piano only got on his other family member's nerves as the evening stretched on, and there was nothing he hadn't already read that was resting on his bookshelves.

"There's nothing to do." He complained, slumping onto one of the sofa's in the large living room, letting his legs hang over one the sofa's arms.

"Go hang out with some friends then." Emmett chided, who was perched on the other sofa, watching a comedy show.

Edward sighed. "Everyone I know is busy." He would never admit to not having made any friends whatsoever after being here for close to half a month. Emmett would never stop pestering him about it if he did, and Edward's self-esteem was bad enough as it is.

"Even that girl you mentioned?"

"Girl?"

"Yes a girl. What was her name? Beth?"

Edward scowled, keeping his attention on the ceiling. "It's_ Bella_, Emmett. Not Beth."

Emmett shrugged turning the volume up a little. "Whatever. Call her up and ask her to hang out."

No, that was impossible. He'd only just met Bella a day ago on Thursday. They weren't friends; hell, they were barely acquaintances. He didn't have her phone number or her address, anyway.

"Even if I did, I don't know how to get anywhere." It wasn't much of an excuse, but it was partially true. He knew how to get to school and back, to the convenience store down the road, to the library, the grocery store, and to the hospital where his father worked. Any of the places Bella had mentioned to him yesterday had been forgotten.

"Well what do you want me to do? I can't make you get a social life, Ed."

Emmett normally didn't have much aggression when it came to Edward and being extroverted, but after thirty minutes of suggestions, all being denied in some kind of excuse one way or the other, he became beyond annoyed with Edward's introverting habits, claiming it wasn't his fault if Edward was being anti-social on a Saturday night.

Instead Edward headed to his room, the one place where it didn't matter what he did; laid on his bed, and let the hums of Bach's Cello _"Prelude" _seep from his stereo, lulling him to sleep.

* * *

><p>Sunday turned out to be even less successful than Saturday, despite having the entire house to himself.<p>

Alice had borrowed his car to drive to the local library, his parents were out spending the day together, and Emmett was over at a friend's house celebrating a team's victory. Again, Edward occupied his time doing mundane tasks; which mostly consisted of practicing piano, watching the television or having staring contests with his ceiling. In this loneliness he could not help feeling upset that he'd moved away from Alaska. He'd just begun to make friends and then was suddenly snatched away, to come to this place.

Having no desire to watch other people on the screen live their lives with enjoyment and the happiness that pursuing what they wanted come true, he made his way back upstairs into his bedroom; letting the silence enfold him. 

* * *

><p>Monday could not come soon enough, but when it did, he was almost relieved to have somewhere to be, even if it was school. Emmett had stayed home to recuperate from his celebrating and honestly, Edward was almost glad his older brother wasn't feeling well. After being snapped at for something Emmett knew Edward had always had such a hard time dealing with, he really didn't think he would be able to stand being around him. Alice never bothered Edward about his practically non-existent social life, unless he ever actually wanted to talk about it, and he cherished that. Likewise, he was there for her in any problems she had, though there were few things she had difficulties with.<p>

It's not that Emmett wasn't a good listener, he just put so much of his own opinion into it, that it would get to the point where talking to him only made things worse. They were both outgoing, while he just…wasn't. He'd always hoped to change that about himself but had no success whenever he tried self-motivation.

Pulling the car into his preferred parking spot, he saw her, dressed in something similar she'd worn on Thursday. In a way he couldn't explain—or really comprehend—he felt some kind of relief seeing her walk past him again. "Bella," he made his way to her side, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, letting Alice walk into school by herself (though the side stare she gave him as she went on without him went unnoticed).

"How was your weekend?" She glanced in his direction but kept her eyes down.

"Glum." she mumbled, wiping her hands on her paint spotted jeans. He tried his best to keep his mouth shut when he saw her face.

She looked like an entirely different person than the one he had met Thursday. It was difficult for him not to say anything about it out loud. Not about how horrible she seemed to be feeling, the messy state of her braided hair, the gaunt condition of her cheeks, or the worsened state of the now darker circles under her eyes.

Maybe she'd caught a cold, or had been sick since last Thursday, and he'd just failed to notice. As much as he wanted to, he didn't ask. But that didn't mean he wasn't concerned, seeing as how only three days had passed since they last saw each other. He decided not to make too big a deal about it, for now. For all he knew she could have been up all night.

They made their way into school in silence, until parting ways to their first classes.

* * *

><p>As the day went on he didn't see her again. Not in literature, gym or art. To say he wasn't worried would be a lie, but he felt weird worrying about someone he hardly knew.<p>

Really, he shouldn't. For whatever reasons she had for looking the way she did, and for not showing up to class, was her business.

Once the final bell rang he walked out into the hall, finding Alice so he could explain that he was staying behind after school to finish his perspective drawing with help from his art teacher, Mrs. DeLatour. She was ecstatic when he handed his car keys over since she was rarely given the chance to drive. She promised to drive back to get him around six. Edward turned on his heel heading back into the art room but was stunned; staring at the last person he expected to see.

Bella.

She was sitting crossed legged, her feet tucked under her bottom, while her sneakers lay under her chair, showing hints of her pale pink socks. Her jacket was discarded on a nearby table with her backpack. Several paint brushes of various sizes were in her left hand, and a paint palette was resting on her right knee.

She didn't acknowledge his presence, and kept her attention on the canvas in front of her. He walked till he was able to stand behind her and look over her shoulder at the creation.

The canvas itself was covered in numerous shades of blue. There was more, he saw, as he moved closer. A nude woman—at least she looked nude—she was only shown from the shoulders up, with no indications of any kind of clothing. The woman had antlers sprouting from her head and wore white lilies in her long hair. Vines sprouted from her neck and seemed to spread around her shoulders; shielding. All was filled in except for her eyes, which remained blank.

"Where've you been all day?" he asked, placing his hand on the back of her chair. "Were you sick? You looked a little pale this morning."

A small smile crept along her face but it didn't stay. "I was in the nurse's office. She had to go, so I came in here. I'm feeling much better."

Being in the nurse's office sounded normal enough…but to be in it all day? Why didn't she just go home? Maybe she'd been so unwell she couldn't drive herself?

_"None of your business, none of your business,"_he reminded himself silently. "Well, what are you painting, then?"

Bella didn't budge, remaining in her stiff sitting position. He almost thought she was ignoring him until she tilted her head to the side and looked up at his face.

"What does it look like to you?" she placed the paint brushes she was holding onto the easel tray.

He stepped back shifting his weight onto his other foot. "A self-portrait maybe?"

"Hm. Could be. Try thinking a little deeper. What does it _say_to you?"

Think deeper? How much deeper could there be? What else could it be but a self-portrait? It looked a lot like her in the face but that was about it. And what was up with the antlers? "I don't know," he admitted after a few short minutes of pondering over the strange piece.

She smiled, again. "Really Edward, have you never dealt with symbolism before? Especially when Monique blabs on about it all the time."

"Monique?"

"Mrs. DeLatour." It was uncommon for him, to hear someone call a professor by their first name, let alone be comfortable enough to be friends with one. "Uh, well…I guess not." He shrugged his shoulders with a light smirk. Bella quietly put her shoes back on, set the palette on a counter and headed over to the sink; paint covered brushes in hand.

"Your mind is like an ocean you know," she said nonchalantly over the faucet, her slender fingers smoothing over the brush bristles, gliding the paint down the drain. "You shouldn't just stay where your feet touch the bottom." The brushes made an audible clink as they were set in a plastic cup nearby. Bella took her canvas off the easel carefully, and set it on the drying rack.

She pulled her jacket over her head, grabbed her backpack, and walked out without another word, leaving Edward behind.

* * *

><p>He confronted her the next morning in their shared literature class. She sat at the back table and didn't look any better than she had yesterday, though she still held the same recognizable dazed expression from when he'd first seen her, a few weeks ago.<p>

Making his way over; he sat across from her seat firmly.

"Feet touch the bottom?"

She turned her attention towards him, her eyes a bit glossy. "Sorry, what?"

"You think I'm shallow," he snapped matter-of-factly. Her eyes narrowed.

"Not _you_. Just the way you think."

"_What?_" What did that even mean, he wondered. Was that some kind of weird Bella-esque way of saying he was stupid? She folded her arms lightly, ignoring the stares a few other students were giving them from Edward's loud outburst.

"You base your thoughts on what you're _"supposed"_ to see. On what is expected of you to see. When really if you'd just base your thoughts on what _you_think—look a little deeper than what is on the surface—you might find that you'll get somewhere."

He tensed his shoulders and glared. "Was that supposed to be advice or an insult?"

"Advice." She responded calmly, unaffected by his increasingly angered tone.

"Yeah well it doesn't make any sense. What does me seeing the surface have to do with anything?"

Bella sighed as if it were the clearest thing in the world to understand. "It means you have trouble reading between the lines. You see only the surface instead of looking beneath to what is actually being portrayed. You read what you're "meant" to read, you listen to what you're "supposed" to listen to because that is what's accepted. You're too close-minded."

A sharp intake of breath came into Edward's lungs, as he prepared himself to make his point understood, even if it meant yelling. _"Advice my ass"_ he grumbled internally. Who the hell gives advice in the form of an insult? However, his defensive argument was hushed as their literature professor, Mr. Streisen, entered the room demanding attention. Over the next fifty minutes of the period, slightly ignoring the discussion about Tim O'Brien's _The Things They Carried_, Edward couldn't help but repeat what Bella had snapped at him.

At least, he wished she had snapped, instead of being so damn calm and collected throughout the whole thing, so he could have an excuse that would validate the anger he was feeling towards her.

It was only forty minutes later that his anger lessened quicker than it had been obtained and he realized that she hadn't insulted him, not really. Well, maybe a little, but perhaps in some kind of incomprehensible way, all Bella was trying to do was help him? He didn't know. Sure, he struggled with art and hidden meanings, but he'd missed the point she was trying to make.

But Bella didn't know him, either. She didn't know how he thought or how he viewed the world, she didn't have the right to judge him. To him, if only to let off steam, he figured he should get to be mad at her, right?

He decided to cast the thoughts away for now, deeming them useless at the moment. He'd been so lost in wondering how to react; he'd barely heard Professor Streisen announcing an essay assignment. Before he could raise his hand to ask him to repeat himself (something the professor wasn't fond of), Bella scooted her notebook against his arm, showing him the assignment written in her messy handwriting.

A silent thank you, a small nod in return. But he was still upset with her.

While he sat through his Civics class—a class he didn't hate, but wasn't exactly overjoyed to be in, either—he spent a lot of time thinking over how much Bella's simple answers bothered him.

And why should they? She didn't say much except that he should be more open minded. He came to the conclusion that maybe her words seemed like such an insult to him, because they were probably true. Out of his immediate family he wasn't very artistic. Alice was the true artist of the family, besides his Mother's sewing and knitting abilities. Emmett was the athlete, his Father was exceptionally smart—he was a surgeon for crying out loud. And Edward, he was…well, he'd been playing piano since he was six, and could play better than any of his siblings or parents.

That was something, at least; though when compared to everyone else it didn't seem like much at all. He'd never been to any recitals, or received any awards unlike his siblings. _"God, stop complaining"_ he berated internally. _"The past isn't worth dwelling on."_Even after all these years, he found that old habits really did die hard.

* * *

><p>When lunch finally came he hurried to the cafeteria, eager to apologize for snapping, and maybe try again to understand what she was going on about. He felt so foolish for reacting the way he did. The crowded lunchroom was practically buzzing with the entire Junior section of the high school talking all at once, making him wish he'd paid more attention to where, or who, Bella sat with.<p>

After looking around the entire room twice, he was disappointed to find that she was nowhere to be seen. He would've checked the outdoor tables, but it was pouring rain, so of course she wouldn't be sitting there.

Again, she was absent the rest of the afternoon.

He drove himself and Alice home, with only the radio playing between them, and the audible _swoosh_the wipers made against the windshield. Once parked, they went inside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I know, I know. Still slow, with little action. This particular chapter was turning into an eight pager, so I had to end it at a point I thought was appropriate. Please review and tell me what you think. As always, I'll do my best to update as soon as possible. _


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